On Birthday Gifts
by Candaru
Summary: Nathalie confronts her boss about the impersonal way he buys presents for his son. It seems there's more to his reasoning than she realizes. (Oneshot, rated T for safety. Implied one-sided Gabenath.)


(A/N: This fic itself is actually a birthday present for my good friend Dawndragon the Storyteller! She has a few fics on here, all of which are totally worth reading. Someday I'm forcing her to finish her own Miraculous fic. YOU'VE NOW BEEN PUBLICLY CALLED OUT, DAWN, MWAHAHAHA- okay enjoy the story!)

* * *

Nathalie froze. _This isn't happening, this isn't happening, this isn't—_

"E-excuse me, sir?"

Mr. Agreste narrowed his eyes. "I _said,_ did you get a gift from me for Adrien's birthday yet?"

Nathalie racked her brain as fast as she could, swimming through the never-ending sea of dates she had to remember. She scoured through numbers frantically, a mild panic setting in. _Is it really already his birthday again? I swear I put it at the top of my list this year, I've been thinking about it all week, but there are so many other projects I have to focus on that if the date got buried and I forgot then—_

"Last year you claimed that I didn't ask you, so I'm giving you an _extra_ reminder this time," he continued, with an edge in his voice. "Pray make use of it."

_Oh._ Nathalie's heart rate slowed down as she realized Adrien's birthday was the _next_ day, after all. But… she had been meaning to ask, and kept putting it off…

"A-actually, sir, I wanted to talk to you about the birthday gift."

Truly, one couldn't claim to have felt fear until they'd felt the cold, hard gaze of Gabriel Agreste when he was displeased.

"Oh?" was all he said.

Nathalie forced herself to firm her resolve. "I was wondering, sir… why do you not pick out a gift for Adrien yourself? I'm sure it would mean a lot to him."

Mr. Agreste scoffed. "Is that all? Tell me, Nathalie, why do _you_ think I don't find him a gift myself? You of all people should know."

Nathalie felt something in her chest drop in disappointment. With practiced monotony, she responded, "Because you're a very busy man."

"Well, yes, that too," he responded, waving her off.

Nathalie lowered her head. "I understa— wait, I'm sorry, what?"

Mr. Agreste had already walked several paces away, clearly intending for the conversation to be over. But he paused and turned his head halfway back to his assistant with a sigh.

"Nathalie, approximately how many hours a day do I spend with my son?"

_Um…_ Nathalie scrolled through her brain. _That's a very awkward question to answer._

"Not a lot, sir," she finally replied.

"Exactly." He started to walk away again, and she almost let him go out of fear— but the thought of Adrien's disappointed face forced her to call out again.

"Sir, I still don't understand. If it isn't business, then what is it?"

Neither person moved for several seconds. Then, with calculated precision, Mr. Agreste turned around and walked back.

"Nathalie, imagine for a moment I asked you to pick out a gift for _me._ Would it be difficult?"

Nathalie blinked. "N-no, sir."

"And why is that?"

_…I don't like where this is going._

"B-because I know you well." Nathalie coughed into her fist.

"And you know me well because?"

_I don't know, how about the fact that I spend every waking moment thinking about you and at least eighty percent of that actually working for—_

Suddenly, his meaning clicked.

"I spend a lot of time with you," Nathalie responded. _QUITE a lot of time,_ the annoying voice in the back of her head reminded her, throwing in a cartoonish visual of her following her boss around for good measure. Someday she wanted to see a psychiatrist about that annoying voice; she was pretty sure it wasn't normal.

"Precisely. You spend time with me, thus you know my preferences, thus it wouldn't be difficult to purchase me something I liked." Mr. Agreste adjusted his glasses, and then something in his voice shifted the tiniest bit. "Being the extremely busy man that I am, I spend very little time with my son. Do you really think I'd have any idea where to even _begin_ looking for a present he'd enjoy?"

Nathalie looked down guiltily at the clipboard in her hands._ That… actually makes a lot of sense._

_"You,_ on the other hand," he continued, "spend plenty of time with Adrien. I have no qualms about buying a gift for my son, but I presume you know his interests far better than I, so I leave the choosing of the gift up to you."

"Th-that seems logical," she replied.

"Good. I'm glad you understand." He started to turn away, but despite herself, Nathalie interrupted one last time.

"But… there's a problem."

Mr. Agreste sighed again and rubbed his temples. "What? What could _possibly_ be so problematic about buying a simple gift that you have to waste my time like this?"

Nathalie cleared her throat. "Sir… I _do_ know what Adrien likes. And I know that what he'd like more than anything in the whole world would be to spend a day with _you."_

There was a long, terrifying, awkward silence for what felt like at least a full minute after that. The visual in Nathalie's head showed a ticking clock with sweat running down its face.

"You know that's beyond my ability," the blond man finally spoke. "Even if I were to make room in my schedule, I wouldn't have the slightest idea what to do with him."

"Sir, _please,"_ Nathalie pleaded, a little more emotionally than she'd intended. Something about that seemed to catch her employer off-guard, so she quickly continued. "He'd do literally _anything_ to be with you. Take him to the zoo, watch a movie with him— show him some of your new designs, for goodness' sake, just spend some time with him and he'll be happy!"

Perhaps it was whatever had caught him off-guard, or perhaps it was just her persistence, but something in Nathalie's speech forced her employer to close his eyes in concentration. "I… I suppose I'll think about it. Perhaps there's a way I could clear a few hours tomorrow towards the afternoon."

Nathalie breathed a sigh of relief, trying not to let any more emotion show. "Thank you, sir. It would make Adrien's day, I assure you."

To her surprise, Mr. Agreste didn't walk away.

"Do you think…" The commanding man hesitated. Nathalie barely had time to register how scary it was to see him hesitate before he finished his sentence. "…Adrien would be interested in the old photo albums?"

Just for a moment, whatever relief Nathalie had was sucked out in terror. She knew the albums he was referring to, and she knew that whenever Mr. Agreste dared to look through them, he always came out with a deep darkness in his eyes. But… she also knew that Adrien would kill to see what was inside the pages. She stiffened and nodded her head.

"He's always curious about his mother. He wants to know every shred of history that she has, but you've made that somewhat difficult. To share your memories of her might be the best gift you could possibly give him."

Mr. Agreste had taken the first part in stride, but his glare sharpened the moment the word "memories" was uttered.

"I've told you not to refer to her in the past tense," he snapped. Nathalie bowed her head.

"O-of course, sir. Just, as far as Adrien is concerned…"

The man's face softened a little. "Right. Of course."

There were another few moments of silence, and then he swiftly turned and walked out. Nathalie took a deep breath before returning to her desk in the corner. She'd accomplished her goal… even more than she'd intended, in fact. Voices started to whisper in the back of her mind as images flashed before her, images of a not-so-distant future, of a resurrection, of a time when Adrien wouldn't be left alone anymore and things would go back to the way they used to be—

Quickly, she turned on her computer and started to type. She felt a small wave of satisfaction checking Adrien's birthday off a long list of dates, and then immediately moved onto the next item. There were hundreds of text boxes, and at least a hundred dates. She was greatly relieved one of them hadn't slipped through her fingers on accident— to her, every number was priceless.

Within a few moments, she'd drowned out the voices and the images in the never-ending sea of tasks and numbers.

Just like she always did.


End file.
